MoonRush (30 page)

Extrapolating from what he had seen, Weigner determined that the cloaking field must be generated with carbon nanotubes, which created an environment similar to the desert mirage, blurring the images behind it. This realization caused the doctor to groan inwardly. His opinion of this vessel
’s designers
reached a new low. Had the scientists involved not heard of the amazing advances in meta
-
materials? These tiny particles…smaller than the size of a wavelength of light…had the ability to guide light around an object. Perhaps even some combination of the two technologies…Weigner lost himself in contemplati
ng
this idea.

The movements of the nav officer brought him back to the present. Such a poorly designed panel. The poor officer had to dart all over the place in order to accomplish the simplest of navigational acts. Weigner patted the sad little man on the back, expressing his sympathy. The officer turned around, startled. Ah, yes. The doctor often forgot how disconcerting it could be to receive attention from someone of elevated status. He gave the young man a strained smile and walked back toward his
vid-screen
, vowing to refrain from physical contact in the future. He had no desire to distract the crew from their business of getting them all to the
M
oon and keeping the ship hidden.

Weigner had to admit that the secrecy added to the general air of excitement. While the doctor had been known to participate in a touch of political maneuvering within scientific circles, where one’s associates were far more important that actual knowledge, he had never really engaged in any cloak-and-dagger protocol above that of entering his top
-
secret lab. He forced calm upon himself. No mere adrenaline rush would be allowed to supersede his objective.

The haughty Captain Stavros called out to his staff, calling them all in for a briefing before their imminent landing on the
M
oon. He brought up a holographic display of the topography they would find on arrival.

“We’re going to conceal the shuttle here…” The captain pointed to a deeper
-
than
-
normal crater. “We will then use the land-cruisers to access the diamond fields.”

Weigner saw no indication of his extensive notes to the captain apparent in the demonstration. The doctor had gone to great lengths to ascertain the area of highest yield possibilities. Was the captain planning on ignoring Weigner’s professional estimate? Weigner spoke out into a sudden hush.

“We’re searching where I suggested?”

Captain Stavros stared the doctor right in the eyes, holding his gaze for an uncomfortable moment. The captain seemed to be daring Weigner to blink first. The doctor refused to give him the satisfaction. As the tension became almost unbearable, the captain responded.

“Yes, the northeast quadrant. Our stake is already registered.”

“Excellent.”

Apparently threatened by the slight whiff of confrontation, the arrogant captain did not seem willing to let the point go without comment. “With the tension back home, you need to produce this ‘mother lode’ quickly.”

A smile crept onto the scientist
’
s face. The captain
w
ould have no way of knowing, but that was just how Weigner wanted it. He was nothing if not confident in his intellectual superiority.

“If it’s out there, I will.”

The doctor peered out the window at the surface of the
M
oon. Man versus nature
—
just the kind of story he enjoyed best.

And this one felt like it would have a more
-
than
-
satisfactory ending. At least for him.

* * *

Jarod watched with a certain amount of pride as the Rogues labored on their new bridge. This ship was a mess, but it was their kind of mess. They could make this work. Jarod doubted that there was a crew in the history of “acquisitions experts” that could rival them. Before, the craft had looked like pure junk. Now? Well, it still looked like junk, but at least it was starting to resemble organized junk.

It was not lost on Jarod that their mode of transportation, just like their accommodations, their legal issues and their credit, all seemed to be spiraling around the toilet bowl. He knew…he
knew
…that if they could just get out to the diamond fields, they would be fine. And yet
,
fate seemed determined to throw a monkey wrench in the works every time they got close. Jarod watched as Rob clambered up from the engine room. Well, engine closet. Cupboard. Whatever.

“So, how’s the engine?”

“Retros are shot,” Rob responded. Okay, that was no worse than expected. They could handle some shot retros, no problem. Then
the
boy continued, ticking off the issues on his fingers
.
“Stabilizers are erratic. The drive itself is only marginally capable—”

“But working… Yes?”
Ouch.
  Maybe Jarod should’ve cut Rob off a bit earlier.

Buton decided to chime in at that point. “It will take me at least forty-eight hours to get the carbon dioxide scavengers back online.” Jarod knew that Buton wasn’t trying to ruin his life
on purpose
, but sometimes he could swear
that
the man took a perverse pleasure in being the voice of doom and gloom.

“Two days?” Jarod was not about to let this go down without some serious conversation. “I wanted—”

“Jarod!” Cleo interjected. “They’re barely
at
half
the
capacity.” Seriously. Did no one want to get out to the diamond fields? All he needed was an open door. Hell, a window. A pinhole. Jarod wasn’t picky. Cleo continued, after taking one last look at the readout.

“The atmosphere is close to toxic.”

Close
. That was it. There was Jarod’s pinhole. “But still breathable…” He grinned at her, rubbing his hands together. He chuckled as Cleo let out a huge sigh, a sure sign
that
she was weakening.

“Perfect! I’ll let you guys get this baby purring while I scrounge
for
some supplies.” He ran to grab an extra oxygen boost for his tanks, bumping into the console in the process and dislodging a piece of metal that dropped to the floor with a clang. It probably wasn’t anything too important. At least he hope
d not
.

As Jarod passed by the nav
igation
panel, a warning clang reverberated through the bridge. The proximity sensors were going crazy. Jarod looked at the cracked screen and saw a dozen rough-looking
former
prospectors surrounding the ship.

Rob, closest to the open door, glanced up from his work to see a very ugly man preparing to enter the ship.

“What the…?” As the teenager tried to close the hatch, a man with scars covering half his face grabbed the boy and put him in a choke hold. Well, it would
have
been a choke hold if Rob had been helmetless. As it was, Rob was helpless. He flailed his arms, trying to reach his assailant, but the scarface just laughed, pulling his arms tighter around Rob’s chest, constricting his breathing. Jarod felt he could almost hear the boy’s ribs creak from the strain on them.

The man looked around, finally settling on Jarod. “This here’s our ship.”

Jarod held out his hands, trying to put the man at ease. They needed to calm him down before finding a way to get rid of him. “Look. I bought this ship from a Mr. Onrove. I have the forms—”

The prospector’s face twisted into a frightening grimace. “He wouldn’t have lasted another week. Then we would’ve claimed it!” The ugly man tightened his hold on Rob even further. “And I mean to take what’s mine.”

Rob continued to struggle with his attacker, but Cleo crossed in front of the boy, catching Jarod’s eye. “I think it’s time to negotiate, Jarod.”

“What!?!” Jarod practically screamed at her. This was so unlike Cleo. She might be many things, most of them frustrating as all hell, but a pushover she was not. Then Jarod caught her slight nod.

“Don’t you agree, Rob?” Cleo emphasized her words, glancing down at
one of
Rob’s prosthetic leg
s
. Jarod got it. Now, would Rob?

Rob’s eyes widened as the scarred man chuckled. “That’s right, little lady.” The man shifted his weight onto a hip as he leered at Cleo.

Rob slumped in an apparent faint, catching the man off guard. The boy hit a switch on his artificial leg, opening up the
side
compartment. He grabbed a spider-Taser and implanted it in the man’s arm.

“More like renegotiate, ass-bite,” Rob yelled as he slapped the Taser array, activating it.

The man screamed and fell back out of the hatch. Cleo and Jarod were right on his heels, slamming the door shut. Buton glanced out the window.

“Our visitors are retreating, but not vacating
,
” Buton observed. A
ping
sounded off the hull. “And they seem to have found a carbon dioxide rifle.”

Jarod slung himself into the pilot’s chair. Time to take out the trash. “Open the hangar doors.”

Cleo protested. “Jarod, the vacuum will kill—”

“Those guys? Please
.
T
hey’re cockroaches,” Jarod sneered with more confidence than he felt. He was sure
that
the guys would scatter once they realized their lives were in danger. Probably.

As the warning chime sounded, the would-be thieves scrambled to safety. Pressurized air exploded outward, casting debris across the
M
oonscape.

The engines whined and grumbled
,
and then ground to a halt. Jarod felt his hopes deflate until he heard a loud clang from the direction of the engine. Rob strolled forward, holding a huge wrench.

“Just gotta know where to hit it,” Rob drawled. Jarod had never loved that kid more than he did right now. He punched the ignition again, and after a few more groans and moans, the engine caught and roared to life. This was more like it. Their fate was about to change. Jarod’s grin threated to leave his face it was so big.

Cleo saw the grin and queried, “What do we do now?”

Jarod laughed. “Snag us some diamonds, of course.”

Cleo h
arr
umphed. “Yeah
,
right.” She slapped his shoulder a couple of times. “I
’d
better start looking for
a brothel for you to work at…”

* * *

Buton stared out the window as their ship skimmed along a hundred yards above the
M
oon. This was no idle exercise. He was doing it to monitor their altitude. The amount of trust he felt for the ancient instrumentation their craft boasted could fit on the head of a proverbial pin. And while he was sure that Jarod was watching their height as well, the man’s crash record spoke for itself.